House Politics
by Timothyology
Summary: Draco and Ron start a new life at Hogwarts.
1. The Slytherin King

the idea of the Slytherin King was originally given to me by the author Mad Martha. The current history in this fiction is my own, and only the basic premise of this particular political process remains

**House Politics**

There is a very delicate system of power within the houses at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. One house in particular stands out among these micropolitical systems and it is, as one would have guessed, Slytherin. Slytherin is the house of the serpent, some even descendants of Salazaar Slytherin himself. The most famous dark wizards of the past several centuries are rumored to have been bred inside this system with great care, and an even greater title. The King of Slytherin.

Slytherin Kings are, as is implied, the leaders of the Slytherin House for a year. Now, there is no _election, _per se, to determine the King for each school year. Usually males from the eldest and most powerful, most wealthy, and most devious families assume position at the start of each year. The King is usually a seventh year, and therefore each King names the King to succeed him.

In 1991, Lee Nobles had been the frontrunner in his sixth year, but upon hearing that Lucius Malfoy's first born son would be in attendance of Hogwarts instead of Durmstrang (and knowing Lucius' standing with the Dark Lord) he quickly stepped down. On the last day of the term he announced that this spot were to be reserved for Draco Malfoy. There were gasps from the entire common room. It was very rare for anyone who wasn't a seventh year to inherit the title of the Slytherin King; and it was even rarer for a first year (in fact, this was the first time, to anyone's knowledge, that it had ever happened).

There is, however, a way in which a frontrunner that was not named the newest monarch can take the crown: a duel. Although this hasn't been the case in quite some time (not since Tom Riddle's time, in fact) there was a gleam in Lee Nobles' (and several others) eyes even as he announced his decision to concede.


	2. Family HistoryThe Sorting

**NOTES**** - This has been a while in the making...and about 2,000 words were cut in the process (don't worry, these will be thrown in somewhere down the line). The fic, contrary to the first installment, is about Ron Weasley and his time at Hogwarts. Enjoy! **

* * *

Ronald Bilius Weasley was the sixth and youngest son of Molly and Arthur Weasley. Growing up, he had never been the smart one or the funny one, the cute one or the popular one. Ron was always…the hungry one…

On the day of Ronald's eleventh birthday, the now ceremonial owl interrupted what even Ron would describe as a particularly hearty breakfast, inviting Ron to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

He had never been happier.

The Weasley's, also a pureblood family, have been Gryffindors since the Most Noble Cedrella Black, who went on to meet and marry Septimus Weasley while both were still in attendance of Hogwarts school.

- - -

After Ronald's sorting ceremony on his first night at the Hogwarts castle, the other Weasley boys had as good as disowned him. As he took his seat at the long House table, marked by a silver and green 'Slytherin' banner, he retreated into his own thoughts, hoping that his mother and father would forgive him.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't a Weasley! You have to be the first of those many, many redheaded children to inhabit these dungeons in over a hundred years. How would Molly handle this news, I wonder…"

Ron looked up at his head of house. He was a hooked nosed man, with black, greasy hair and the most sinister black eyes Ron had ever dared to stare into.

"I dunno. Reckon they'll find this Weasley a bit more amusing than you."

Ron's heart stopped. Had he really just said that out loud!? Professor Snape was practically boiling with anger, and staring directly at…at someone else?

Just as Ron was about to investigate the source of Professor Snape's great malice, a small, blonde boy strode beside him and punched him a little to hard on the shoulder.

"Mr. Malfoy. Like father like son, I suppose." Snape made his was suddenly to the front of the group, where he recited the password for everyone to hear. As Ron forced a 'thank you' from his still churning stomach, there was a voice, booming from every corner of the dungeon.

"Welcome. Salazaar himself sends his praise from beyond the grave. May your time here be... your own."

A hiss of a hundred different voices, speaking all at once, was creating a bizarre echoing effect. Ron realized that it must have come from the large, marble door at the end of the hall. It was like a shrine; an enormous, emerald carved snake wove in and around the round door, its head, the center knob. It had eyes of opal, and, Ron could swear, was slowly slithering out of Snape's way as he approached nearer. By the time their Head of House had reached the door, nothing but the head of the serpent was left. Snape stood, waiting for something, and Ron shocked to see that the door had begun opening on its own.

'_I wonder_' he thought dully, '_if everything in Slytherin is as strange as this_'.

As he stepped through the entranceway with the rest of the first years, he gawked in awe and slight horror at the sight above and all around him. The Slytherin quarters, he was surprised to find, were located below the Castle Lake! Above him thick, probably enchanted glass shown with the green of the murky bottom, and was constantly creating shadows like a cold-burning fire. There was a marvelous chandelier in the center, all diamonds and pearls and crystal.

The red haired boy turned to check the room's furnishings, but was abruptly knocked back by an invisible force - or, rather, a blonde one.

"S-sorry." Ron mumbled as he stared into the pointed face of Malfoy.

"I'm Ron. Ron –

"Weasley. Yes, a pleasure, I'm sure. Draco Malfoy."

With that, Draco strode across the common room to join several of his friends, both great in size and a bit more primate than human. Ron decided that it might be best if he made as many friends in this house as quickly as he could in the likely case that his brothers were to ignore him for the rest of the term. He followed.

By the time Ron had gathered the courage to introduce himself, Draco and his friends were already deep in conversation, Draco doing his best impression of what Ron recognized as Professor Snape, the others bellowing with laughter.

"Hullo. 'M Ron."

The others abruptly stopped, staring at him as if he were insane. This changed when Draco gave him a sideways glance and nodded slightly to his friends. The boys said their names in unison.

"Crabbe."

"Goyle."

"Weasley, we were just sharing our opinions of a certain Head of House. A real git if I ever saw one, don't you think?" Draco looked expectantly to Ron, who was already red at the ears with nervousness.

"Yeah…a real git!" Ron said in what he hoped was a convincing tone.

- - -

That night, after Ron had finished putting away the last of his things in his new dormitory, he flopped down, exhausted, on his bed. His eyes ran over the other 4 beds in the dungeon, which belonged to Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini and, of course, Malfoy. The beds were empty now - Ron had retired to the room alone after some time. During their conversation, Ron's mind kept wandering back to what Professor Snape asked him. How would his parents take the news? Fred and George certainly weren't speaking to him. Maybe they'll have written mum and dad about it already…though they never were ones to write home on a regular basis.

Ron grabbed a roll of parchment, some ink and a new quill.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_The castle is wicked! Tonight was the sorting…_

Ron took the roll suddenly and tore it into halves, fourths, eighths and sixteenths. He couldn't bring himself to tell what little family that he felt he had left that he was becoming the very thing that all Weasleys hated on principal. He just couldn't - at least not tonight.

As Ron tucked himself in, he resolved to put off writing home about anything, at least until he had gotten used to classes.


	3. Malfoy Manner and Harry Potter

5 master bedrooms, 12 guest sweets, several living rooms, ball rooms, billiard rooms, libraries ( three, to be exact ), a grand dining room, and…well, Draco couldn't think of the rest of them. This was stupid! What did McGonnagal think that this was supposed to help them decipher? It was pointless. The Manor was a house so big that you could get lost in it, and, truth be told, many people often did! So what was describing one's childhood home supposed to be good for in the first place?

"What are we doing this for, again?"

"Well, Draco, I think that it's supposed to be an ice-breaker exercise."

"A _what_, Weasley?!"

Ron heaved a sigh.

"You know…break the ice. Get to know each other, and all that. Reckon that's why she paired us up." Ron smirked. It had only been a couple of days, but already he was starting to get a very strange feeling about one, Draco Malfoy. He had grown up in a life of privilege - he even had his own personal Quidditch pitch, for crying out loud! – but he knew nothing of the world. On their second day at Hogwarts School, Ron had asked him about the town in which he grew up. Draco claimed not to know of any of the town's inhabitants, and in fact had never had a mind to venture off of the Manor grounds. He was both privileged and sheltered.

"Don't you ever leave that place?"

"Why?"

"Well beacaus- wait…what do you mean 'why'?"

"Why would I need to leave the Manor? It's got everything I'd ever need." Draco had said simply.

"Well…what if you wanted to take a walk? Or…or go out with friends? Or head to Diagon Alley to buy stuff?"

"I walk around the grounds. If I need something, the house elf's usually get it for me. And I…"

'_Don't have any friends…_' Ron looked away. It was strange…Draco was the Slytherin King for crying out loud. He sat at the head of the House table every day, surrounded by admirers, talking animatedly with Pansy and Crabbe and Goyle. Weren't _they_ his friends? Ron guessed, that to Draco, they were all more business associates. He wondered vaguely if Draco considered him a friend.

"Ron?" Draco brought him back from his thoughts.

Ron nodded, and together they finished up their essays, more or less in silence.

**HP **

The next night, Ron read over the letter that he had received from his parents earlier that day. Errol had swooped down to - more like flopped onto - his house table at breakfast with a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and a parcel from mum.

_Ronald,_

_How is Hogwarts? Your brothers have been telling us some pretty nasty rumors about your "house". They telling us that you've ended up in Slytherin…some kind of running gag, I suppose. Your father and I just want you to know that we love you very much and that we do hope that you're eating properly! _

_P.s. Please write. _

It was worse than he had imagined. It had already been close to a week and his brothers had already written home ( and, it seemed, on multiple occasions ) to tell his parents ( quite truthfully ) that he had been sorted into the house of Salazaar Slytherin himself. He would definitely have to write back tomorrow. He had come to terms with the fact that his parents had to find out, for sure, from him. Ron scrunched up his nose in thought. There was something odd about the note; something didn't sit right with him at all. He'd only been in Slytherin a week, but even that was long enough to know when someone or something was up to no good. But what?

He began to mull it over in his mind and didn't stop until sleep overtook him much, much later.

**HP**

The next day, on his way to breakfast, Ron bumped into someone who, from the signature lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead, he recognized as Harry Potter. Ron was dumbstruck. "Um- sorry." The boy said.

"No, not at all. I'm Ron. Ron Weasley."

Harry Potter was not at all what Ron had been expecting when he had heard from the Slytherin rumor mill (Pansy Parkinson) that he was to attend Hogwarts this year. The boy, in his own year, who had defeated He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named when he was only an infant, looked no older than eight years old. He was a small, thin, green eyed boy, whose hair looked as if he had just stepped out of a thousand year sleep. Scratch that; it looked worse ( for Ron had actually been at the site of the boy-king Tut when he was resurrected for the first time in Egypt ). He hardly looked like a savior.

"Harry Potter." the boy held out his hand.

Ron received it and smiled.

"Nice to meet you. Gryffindor, I imagine? Had six brothers in that House. Three of them still."

"You mean the twins. Yeah, I know them…" Harry responded, somewhat pleased- although to Ron, it sounded distinctly like he had already been the subject of one of Fred and George's famous gags or experiments.

"Yeah…sorry about them in advance. Well, it was nice to meet you, Harry." Ron turned on his heels and made his way into the great hall and to the Slytherin House table.

As he made his way to his usual seat, about three down from Blaise, next to Millicent Bullstrode and some bloke, he noticed that Draco was glancing at him purposefully. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that the seat to Draco's right, normally occupied by Pansy was empty, leaving only an empty seat and a piece of neatly folded parchment that bore Ronald's name.

Ronald sat down. He turned to Draco, expression doubtful. _'I don't understand..' _he mouthed. Draco merely smirked his trademark smirk and fell back into Crabbe and his conversation.

After breakfast, Draco discreetly led him by the elbow to a nearby corridor.

"Pansy has been feeling ill." he answered the unheard question.

"Oh. Is…is that it, then?" Ron asked.

"No. Well, not exactly." Draco had suddenly taken an extreme interest in his shoes. It was the first time that Ron had ever seen the blonde boy this way. Suddenly he wasn't his usual, overconfident self.

"I've decided," Draco announced, "That you shall be my- his voice cut off. Ron squinted to be sure, and he saw that Draco was, indeed, blushing.

"You shall be my first friend." Draco heaved a great sigh and looked back to Ron, a proud expression on his face.

Ron smiled.

"Wicked."

* * *

**Notes- Alright...well, I haven't actually decided that much in the way of this story's plot-line. I'd really love your suggestions..they've worked out well in the past. Short, yes, but I hoped that you liked it! **


End file.
